


Catch You on the Ice

by Jrkio21



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Past Clark/Lex, Winter Sports
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-16
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2018-11-01 08:00:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10917660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jrkio21/pseuds/Jrkio21
Summary: The Winter Sports College AU that nobody asked for! So Kon’s on the ice hockey team and Tim’s on the figure skating team and they tend to bump into one another in the rink halls a lot. Kon’s a legacy kid because it’s Clark’s alma mater and he was a goalie for the hockey team once upon a time and Bruce is Tim’s personal coach (who makes big donations to the school so Tim gets to use the rink after hours for practice). They meet and it’s rocky for a while because they’re so different - Kon’s pledging to a frat and Tim spends more time in the computer lab and library than anywhere else when he’s not in class - but they eventually hit it off and become basically the school’s cutest couple. The hockey team adores Tim and loves teasing Kon about it and they both go to each other’s games and competitions. and there’s a lot of great butts because if there’s one thing ice sports are good for it’s chiseling out-of-this-world asses.





	1. First Impressions are Important

Tim finished lacing up his sneakers and zipped up his hoodie as he stood. He grabbed his bag from the floor and slung the strap over his shoulder, making his way to the locker room exit and flipping off the light switch as he passed it. It was quiet in the rink at this time – so late on a week night after all the practices had ended and the only person left was probably the janitor who would make a final sweep through the facilities in… 17 minutes, but for now, everything was quiet.  


Tim walked along the corridors, fishing out his phone to check for messages when he came around a corner and nearly jumped out of his skin at seeing another person in the rink. His grip on his phone tightened for a moment before he calmed himself forcefully.  


It was Conner Kent – ice hockey right winger and freshman star. Tim had seen him around the rink enough this year (and the athletics mess hall, and the gym, and around the quad…) and had to suffer through the boisterous bro-ciety that was the men’s ice hockey team. He was preparing to just roll his eyes and continue on, maybe sparing Kent a generous head nod or a pointed comment, but then he noticed what Conner was staring at.  


Conner had his eyes fixed to one of the many framed photographs on the wall – they lined most of the corridors, pictures of people using the facilities, of old teams and financial donors, and of miraculous victories set in sepia and black and white – totally unaware and transfixed. Tim knew which photo it was – he’d memorized the composition and location of each photograph in the rink, unwillingly thanks to his photographic memory. It was the University’s biggest claim to fame to date: in 1986, the Metropolis Supermen had won the Handley Cup, and who led them to their glorious victory with the final shoot out goal but Clark Kent, goalie and graduate of the University in 1983. The photograph featured a close up shot of Clark Kent’s face, as he hoisted the Cup above his head and confetti rained down from the ceiling, his teammates jostling behind him and sheer rapture on his face.  


Tim had done enough of his research to know the two Kents were related (and the amount of uproar Tim had heard from everyone freaking out that a famous legacy kid would be attending their University (as if he were the only one) was more than informative, if not a little annoying. Of course he'd google'd the guy after that, curious to know what the big deal was). A precarious tie linked Conner to Clark, because although Clark was married, Conner’s mother was not Lois Lane-Kent. The information on Conner Kent’s parentage is murky and unresolved and try as the media might to uncover Conner’s other parent, nothing has been found. However, there’s no denying Clark’s paternity: Conner’s looks alone provide genetic proof of lineage (the dark, thick hair, blue eyes, strong jaw…).  


Pointed but ice-breaking comment it was.  


“Bit of an odd hour to be taking a gallery tour of Wayne’s ancient collection of memorabilia,” Tim commented, making a point to keep his phone out in a show of disinterest as he walked towards the exit and Conner.  


Conner visibly started, shocked eyes darting over to Tim before relaxing. Obviously he hadn’t expected anyone to disrupt his contemplations. There was a moment of silence that allowed Tim space to move closer, eyes moving between tapping out a response text to Steph’s inquiry of “food?” an hour and a half ago and glancing up at Conner’s relaxing self.  


“Oh, I, uh, didn’t know anyone used the rink this late,” Conner replied, shifting his own backpack on his shoulder, body turning towards Tim.  


“My coach worked out a deal with management,” Tim replied off-handedly, hitting send on his text and pocketing his phone. He didn’t feel inclined to mention that his coach bore the name of the rink (as its lead financial backer) and that he could probably arrange to have anything done to it if he wanted.  


“Huh,” Conner so eloquently replied. Tim could have rolled his eyes. “You’re a figure skater right? I’ve seen you practicing before – you’re really good.”  


“Thank you,” Tim replied, honestly a little shocked to hear those words come out of Conner Kent’s mouth, “Tim Drake.” Tim stuck out a hand as means of introduction.  


“Conner Kent,” Conner replied, taking Tim’s hand and shaking.  


“Everyone knows who you are,” Tim replied with a wry smile, letting his hand fall back at his side.  


Conner huffed a laugh at that, glancing back at the photograph one more time while his laugh tampered off like something sad and mournful. “Yeah, I guess so, huh?”  


In the background, the sound of a Zamboni starting up echoed through the corridors, drowning out the off-tune whistles of the janitor.  


“So do you come here every Wednesday night to admire the good ol’ days, or this is just an anomaly?” Tim asked, taking a moment to give the picture Conner had been looking at a better look. Just as he remembered: Clark Kent’s sunny, home-grown face dazzled by victory as the world erupts around him. There was a bit of a strangled pause where Conner also glanced at the photo and tried to come up with an answer.  


“Uh,” was all it took before Tim could tell there was something deeper at work here between Conner and his father and he quickly decided to change tacks.  


“’Anomaly’ means something out of the ordinary,” Tim said, hoping to bait Conner down a different trail of conversation.  


“I know what ‘anomaly’ means,” Conner quickly replied, taking the bait.  


“Well, someone studied for his SATs,” Tim said with enough of a smile to make it less hurtfully mocking and more amicable teasing.  


“Probably not as much as I should have,” Conner admitted with a laugh: a laugh that made Tim’s smile shift into something genuine and made him feel a bit like he was standing in sunshine.  


“Oh, come on, don’t play into the dumb jock stereotype,” Tim responded, almost unable to stop himself from smiling.  


“Well you’re definitely upholding the prissy figure skater stereotype,” Conner replied, his own light-hearted smirk stretching across his face.  


“Prissy? I’m not prissy,” Tim said with a voice bordering on feminine. He wished once again that his voice had dropped just one octave lower.  


Conner just hiked an eyebrow in response and Tim huffed a breath, moving past Conner towards the exit.  


“Whatever, mister dumb jock, have fun on your self-guided exhibition tour,” he said as he strode towards the exit, thinking belatedly that striding may have been a little… definitely not prissy.  
He could hear a soft chuckle from behind him before the unlatching of a metal door and its subsequent closing. Then he was out in the cold winter air and, tucking his head down closer to his shoulders, he walked briskly back to his dorm.

 

The next time Tim sees Conner Kent, it’s in the mess hall Saturday afternoon, and he has never seen one person eat so many hard boiled eggs in one sitting – it honestly makes him a little sick.


	2. Economics makes the heart grow fonder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim and Kon spend a little quality time together

         After their initial interaction, Tim starts to see Conner in more and more places he feels like he didn’t before: the mess hall, the quad, the rink, various school hallways, and so on. At first, they nod to each other or throw amicable smiles at one another from across crowds. Then, their interactions turn verbal, trading personal greetings to one another as they cross paths.

         It’s already halfway through the year before Tim realizes he actually shares a class with Conner. It’s an introductory economics class that Tim had taken to fulfill a breadth requirement. It was all basic stuff that he’d been studying since his Freshman year of high school, so he kept the class as a GPA booster. The same probably couldn’t be said for Conner.

         When Tim sees him, it’s during the midterm; he’d just submitted his own test, confident in another easily-earned A and is walking down the aisles of separated desks when he notices Conner’s figure, hunched over his own paper looking frustrated, confused, and panicked all at once. From the way he was scrubbing his eraser across his whole paper, Tim didn’t think this class was a GPA booster for Conner as well.

         Tim left the test hall, already making plans for their next encounter.

 

........................

 

         The following semester, when classes started back up again, Tim made a point to casually check over his shoulder during his Econ lectures to scan the hall for Conner Kent’s familiar face.

         He almost doesn’t see Conner because the guy is wearing glasses; he’s wearing a flannel button-up and staring so intently at the professor’s powerpoint, Tim thinks he’s about to set it on fire with his stare. Tim can’t help but smile at this new side of Conner Kent he’s seeing: the not-so-suave, struggling-to-pass-his-classes student.

         As Tim packs up his bag after the lecture ends, he takes one last glance at Conner Kent, Rookie star of the Varsity Hockey team, hunched over his desk, head cradled in one of his hands while he stars blankly at the notes in his notebook.

 

........................

 

         “Hey, is this seat taken?”

         Kon looks up, a casual response for the stranger on the tip of his tongue when he sees who it is that spoke to him.

         “Oh, hey! I didn’t know you were in this class,” Kon said, reaching down to move his backpack closer to his feet so Tim could sit down.

         “I didn’t know you were either,” Tim lied, sitting down in the vacant seat and opening up his own bag to pull out his laptop.

         “Yeah, I kinda wish I wasn’t,” Kon laughed, sliding his glasses up his head and into his hair. “This class is murdering my GPA.”

         “Really?” Tim prompted, his face not betraying that he obviously knew that.

         “Yeah, man. I don’t know, I just can’t understand it. The prof’s lectures are so scattered and confusing, you know?” Kon groaned, the stress obvious on his face. Tim could sympathize – the professor was certainly scatterbrained.

         “Yeah, he’s pretty tough to follow,” Tim agreed, “Have you tried just working from the textbook? It makes a lot more sense and has a much better flow.”

         Kon laughed out loud at that, head tipped back and shoulders jumping, “The textbook? Dude, that thing was like $400 – I couldn’t afford that in my wildest dreams.”

         Tim was almost startled by that comment; he hadn’t expected Conner Kent to suffer from financial troubles. He was suddenly that much more aware of the large Econ100 book weighing down his messenger bag.

         “Well, you could borrow mine,” Tim suggested, already reaching down into his bag to fish the textbook out.

         “What? Oh, dude, no way, I couldn’t take your book. Don’t you need it?” Kon replied, suddenly much more serious. Tim held the book out to him.

         “It’s fine. I don’t really need it anyway. I’ve been studying economics since the ninth grade – there’s nothing in there I don’t already know,” Tim replied, ushering the book into Conner’s hands.

         “Wow, are you sure, man? Thanks a lot,” Kon said, looking down at the heavy book in his hands. He opened the hard cover page and flipped through some of the pages.

         “You’re welcome,” Tim replied, turning back to login to his computer.

         “Let me know if you ever want to back to study or something, though,” Kon said, sliding the book into his bag.

         “Don’t worry about it,” Tim replied, opening his laptop and putting in his password, “I’m pretty comfortable with all the material. But if you ever need a study buddy or a tutor, I’d be happy to work with you. They say the best way to learn something is to teach it, so we could meet for study sessions and go through the book together?” Tim brought up his notes program and typed up a fresh header before turning to Kon to hear his reply.

         “Uh, yeah, I think I could really use the help,” Kon replied, a sheepish grin breaking over his face. He tucked the textbook under his notebook on the desk, “Honestly if I thought I’d do this bad, I’d have dropped the class months ago but I need the credit and I’m already too deep in at one semester to pull out.” Kon laughed to himself and pulled his glasses back down onto his face. They made him look like an entirely different person, in Tim’s opinion.

         Just then, the professor’s lecture powerpoint appeared on the screen at the front of the hall and he dimmed the lights. All conversation quieted as the professor wished them a good morning and introduced the day’s topic.

         Tim and Kon didn’t speak again throughout the hour and a half lecture, but from Tim’s quick glances at his neighbor, he guessed by Kon’s posture that he wasn’t understand today’s lesson in the slightest.

         The lights came back up at the end and students were already packing their bags to head out. Tim closed his laptop while Kon was frantically trying to get down the last few words of the slide before the professor pulled the plug.

         As Kon began to shove his things into his backpack, Tim stood, turning to face him, “So what’s your schedule like?”

         “What?” Kon asked, zipping his bag.

         “When are you free to study together?” Tim clarified, pulling out his phone to check his messages and his own schedule.

         “Oh, uh, right. Um,” Kon began, standing as well and following Tim down the aisle. “Well I’ve got hockey practice in the evening and gym sessions some mornings… I’ve got a gap between classes on Thursday from 1 to 3.”

         “Thursday 1 to 3,” Tim repeated, scanning his own schedule on his phone and checking his availability. “I can do Thursday at 2,” Tim replied, already putting his session with Kon into his phone.

         “Awesome,” Kon replied, adjusting his backpack strap. “Where do you wanna meet?”

         “I’ll get us a private room at the library. What’s your number?” Tim replied, bringing up the new contact option.

         “My what?” Kon asked.

         “Your phone number. I’ll text you the room number,” Tim replied, handing his phone to Kon to let him punch in his number.

         “Oh, right,” Kon replied, taking the phone and putting in his details. They had stopped in the hallway for the exchange, students moving around them like river water around rocks. Kon soon handed Tim back his phone. Tim saved the contact and tucked his phone away before they started walking out of the building together. “Do you want to start this Thursday?” Tim asked, as the descended the stairs.

         “Yeah, might as well get started as soon as possible. I need all the help I can get,” Kon replied with a smile.

         “Don’t worry, with my help, you’ll be acing the course in no time,” Tim replied with his own smile.

         “I’ll hold you to it, man,” Kon replied, pausing at the bottom of the stairs. “Hey, thanks again for the book and for offering to help,” Kon said, “I hope you know what you’re getting into. You’ve got your work cut out for you.” Kon smiled brightly and Tim was reminded of the grinning pictures of Clark Kent hung around the arena walls.

         “Oh, I think I can handle it. I like a good challenge,” Tim responded with his own grin, a little more sarcastic.

         “Well, I’m headed this way,” Kon said, gesturing over his shoulder. Tim nodded.

         “And I’m that way,” he said, gesturing with his head in the opposite direction.

         “Cool, well I’ll see you around then,” Kon replied, already back-stepping away for his next class.

         “See you around, Conner,” Tim said with a smile as he watched Kon turn and start walking away.

         “Call me Kon!” Kon shouted back over his shoulder, throwing Tim a grin and a little wave.

         “Alright, Kon. See you around,” Tim corrected, speaking more to himself than Kon’s rapidly disappearing form. He smiled to himself as he turned and walked down the sidewalk to his own class, humming softly to himself.

 

...............................

 

         “Dude, I literally don’t understand. Like what’s the point?” Kon said, his hands running frustrated-ly through his hair, tousling it in ever direction. He looked like a man on the brink.

         Tim leaned over the table to point to a paragraph in the textbook. “It’s simple supply and demand,” Tim said, craning his head to be able to read right from the textbook.

         Their study sessions often went very similar to this. Kon, while a decent student in some subjects, really just didn’t grasp the concepts of economics. Tim was patient and worked with him through every chapter of the textbook, but it was slow-going. Kon had been making progress over the past few weeks, however, and his quizzes were coming back better and better each time.

         Their hour passed and towards the end, Kon was doing problems from the textbook and Tim was working on an essay for his Literary Theory class. Tim glanced at the clock in their room and saved his work. He shut his laptop and drew Kon’s attention.

         “How’re the problem sets going?” Tim asked, shifting in his seat to look over Kon’s work briefly.

         “Good, I think?” Kon replied, sitting back and putting his pencil down, “I mean, I think I’m starting to get it.” Tim picked up Kon’s paper and looked over his work more thoroughly. He picked up his own pen and made some notes and changes on the page.

         “Well, you’re definitely doing better. It looks like you’ve at least partially grasped the core concepts,” Tim said, passing the paper back so Kon could see what he’d changed.

         “Gee, thanks professor,” Kon replied, looking over the notes. He nodded, obviously understanding the changes Tim had suggested.

         “I mean it, Kon, you’re doing better. Honestly by leaps and bounds. We’ll go over the test material next week to make sure we’re ready, but I think you’ll do fine on next week’s quiz,” Tim said as he slipped his laptop and books into his bag.

         “Thanks Tim,” Kon said, putting away his own materials.

         They stood and Tim pushed in his chair. “So, got plans for the weekend?” Tim asked.

         Kon slung his bag over his shoulder. “Well, Rush is this weekend and I’m thinking of joining,” Kon replied, “You thinkin’ of rushing?”

         Tim laughed to himself as they left their private study room at the library. “No,” he replied, not wanting to sound rude, “Not really my scene.”

         “Oh, got it,” Kon said, adjusting his bag. Tim sensed that laughing at Kon’s desires was probably not a kind thing, so he quickly switched tactics.

         “Any idea who you’re gonna rush for?” Tim prodded, trying to encourage the topic in a positive way.

         “Well, I was thinking Epsilon Lambda,” Kon began as they pushed open the library doors and walked outside, “but I’m not sure. I figure I’ll look around this weekend and see if anything stands out.”

         Tim recognized EL – their greatest claim to fame was that hockey star Clark Kent was a member. Tim supposed Kon was trying to follow the family legacy.

         “Right. Well, I’m sure there’s a fraternity out there for you. The Greek Life is so huge here, there’s bound to be a group of guys you’d fit right in with,” Tim responded. He was trying to subtly encourage Kon to pick his frat based on the brothers, not his father’s approval. It seemed like Kon struggled to reconcile the two sometimes.

         “Yeah. Well, we’ll see,” Kon replied distantly, as if he had a lot on his mind.

         “Mm,” Tim replied, turning to Kon, “Well, I’ll see you in class tomorrow.”

         “Yeah, sounds good,” Kon replied, his attention coming back to Tim to say goodbye, “I’ll see you then. Thanks again for the help.”

         “No problem,” Tim responded with a smile, “Bye.”

         “See ya,” Kon said and they parted ways on the sidewalk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long gap in updating! I've been doing a lot of traveling and moving across the country recently so I haven't had much time to sit down and write. But I promise more content soon so stay with me -- we're just getting to the good stuff!
> 
> And thank you for all your support, kudos, and kind words! They mean the world to me and definitely encourage me to keep writing. Y'all are the best! Xo


	3. Daddies' Little Disappointment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kon has dinners with his dads. They don't go very well.

“So how’s school going?”

Kon doesn’t even glance up from his burger, just pauses eating long enough to mutter a “fine”, before taking another huge bite. He hopes if his mouth is full, he won’t have to talk to his dad.

 “How’re your classes?” Clark asks, taking a much more reasonable bite of his own burger.

Every few months or so, Clark calls Kon (Kon ignores the call, lets it go to voicemail, and then listens to it a day or two later after the notification bubble grates his nerves enough) and invites him out to eat to “catch up”. It wouldn’t be such a bad arrangement if Kon didn’t hold so much resentment toward his parents and if the fans and paparazzi weren’t always close behind. Toady, they’re tucked in the corner of a diner a few blocks from Kon’s campus, trying to avoid the public eye while sharing an awkward, conversationally-stunted meal of burgers and fries.

Kon, because his mouth is so full his cheeks are nearly bulging, just issues an exaggerated thumbs up to his dad’s question and continues to refuse to make eye contact.

“Are you making decent friends, at least?” Clark asks, groping for some sort of topic to engage Conner with. If Kon were willing to look his father in the face, he’d see that desperate puppy-dog look that had won over so many reporters and media-personnel for his entire career. Kon hates it because it makes _him_ feel like the villain.

Kon just shrugs and hums an affirmative-sounding hum in response, focusing on adding more ketchup to his fries rather than giving any actual answers. This meal just can’t be over fast enough.

Clark heaves a heavy sigh and he sets his burger down and wipes his hands. Kon feels a sinking feeling in his gut as the waves of disappointment just roll off his father and over him.

“Conner, please, you have to -”

Whatever passive-aggressive blame Clark was about to heft onto Kon’s shoulders is cut off by the presence of three strangers beside their table. They’re obviously fans of Clark’s hockey career and they politely thrust napkins at him and beg for his signature. Clark gives them his bright, award-winning smile as they fawn over him and recall their favourite moments of his glorious career. Clark nods respectfully to them as they thank him and go on their way. Kon feels his mood sour even more and he slumps further into the booth.

Kon knows he’s being an ass, but these meals where Clark tries to brush old wounds under the rug make Kon’s blood literally boil in anger. He doesn’t want to play nice with his dad when just seeing him feels like salt in freshly opened cuts and he hates being hassled by paparazzi and fans only there for Clark.

Once his fans are gone, Clark turns back to Kon, his radiant smile fading from his face to be replaced with an “I’m not angry, just disappointed” frown. Kon wants to punch himself in the face and save Clark the effort. But he’s just not ready to let go of years of hurt. Not yet. Pa always said he was stubborn; Ma says he got that from his dads.

“Conner,” Clark says in that tone of voice that keeps Kon up at night feeling like a dickhead, “I’m really trying here. I want us to be close, but I need you to try too.”

Kon’s stopped eating by now. He’s only slumped lower in the booth, physically crippled by Clark’s “disappointed dad” vibes. There’s a long silence that stretches between them and the clatter of plates and dishes in the diner fill the space. They sound like an orchestra to Kon and Clark’s next words make his stomach drop.

“… I know I haven’t always been… the best dad to you,” Clark begins, and Kon feels cold, white anger overtake him in a head-to-toe kind of way. His fists clench on the booth bench beneath him. “I wasn’t around when you were growing up and, and you know I’m sorry for that.”

Kon thinks it’s amazing that his dad can always make him feel both irate and ashamed at the same time.

“But I’m trying to be here for you now but I need you to accept me back. I’ve already told you I’m sorry, I don’t know-” But Kon’s had enough of Clark’s pity party by now and he cuts him off, rudely, he knows.

“Sorry for what? For dropping me in Smallville with your parents for my entire life? For never spending time with me? For ignoring my existence for years until it was convenient for you? Or was it because you probably never even wanted me in the first place-”

“Conner!” Clark says sternly, a look of shock on his face. Kon knows he’s struck a nerve, but he’s had enough and he feels like he’s about to throw up his burger. Clark spoke loudly, with that commanding authority that made people on the ice listen to him. If this were a movie, everyone in the diner would have dropped what they were doing and turned to stare at them. But this isn’t a movie and the silence that stretches once more between them is filled with that static white noise of people eating and cooking.

“This isn’t the place,” Clark says, softer. He and Kon both know Kon’s right, but Clark’s too coward to admit it and Kon’s spiteful toward him for it. “Why is it every time I take you out to have a nice time you have to sabotage it by saying purposely hurtful things?” Clark asks earnestly and obviously hurt. But Kon isn’t moved. At least, he won’t be right now. He knows as he lies in bed tonight he’ll feel like a shit sandwich and wish he’d never been born.

“Because you won’t admit it! You and him and even ma and pa all try and sweep all this under the rug like it doesn’t matter anymore but it does! And I’m tired of having to spend time with my two parents who want nothing to do with me!” Kon exclaimed. He managed to keep his voice down so as not to make a scene in the diner, but it was close.

“Conner, you know that’s not true,” Clark said in response, “It’s just… Your dad and I, back then, we thought we ready for something more but… well, it’s complicated.” This was where Clark always stumbled; he could never talk about his and Lex’s relationship with Kon. Hell, Kon doubted he could even talk to his current fiancé, Lois Lane, about it. But Kon knew more or less what the story was, after pestering his foster parents Martha and Jon Kent about it for years.

Lex and Clark met in the early days of Clark’s hockey career. Lex had recently purchased the Metropolis Supermen and was introducing himself to the team and staff. He was immediately enthralled by young Clark Kent: his good heart, his loyal attitude, and his compassion for everyone and everything. And who wouldn’t fall for those brilliant smiles and classic hometown-boy good looks? Not to mention he was built like a comic book superhero. Lex won Clark over with his drive, his unique sense of humour, and his earnest persistence.

They dated entirely in secret (the media backlash from something like this would have ruined the team, not to mention their own reputations and careers). It was a passionate thing for a few years and things between them were going well enough until Lex decided to take it to the next level. He arranged a surrogate mother in secret and, using all the vast money and resources at his disposal, was able to conjure up Kon from his and Clark’s combined DNA (along with that of the surrogate). All this was done in secret, however, and when Lex revealed the surprise to Clark on their anniversary as a gift, the news did not go over well.

Neither were really ready to be fathers (Clark had his hockey career to focus on which was just beginning, and Lex had his fingers in so many different entrepreneurial pies he hardly had the time), but Clark was more vocal about this opinion than Lex was. The world didn’t even know they were together – how could they raise a child together?! Lex was hurt, obviously; he understood he and Clark were on different pages about their relationship and Clark made it clear that they’d never reach that shared place.

Lex said they could terminate it. Him. (Even though it’d be billions of dollars of scientific research wasted). Clark was more horrified than ever. The fight lasted days with a lot of tense back and forth discussions about what to do with this rapidly growing child. It was finally decided that the child, once born, would go and live with Clark’s parents in Smallville, as neither Lex nor Clark had the time available to effectively raise a child. Lex and Clark would agree to go their separate ways after their child’s foster parentage was secure and would visit with the child regularly throughout it’s growth and life. This was all kept secret and out of the public eye.

When Kon was born on June 26, he was born in Metropolis General Hospital to a room full of scientists, doctors, and Lex. Clark was not present.

As soon as he was healthy enough, he was flown across the country in Lex’s private plane to Smallville, Kansas where Clark’s parents met them and enthusiastically took Kon into their home. Clark didn’t meet him until that Christmas.

From then on, Kon was raised in Smallville by Ma and Pa Kent. He went to school there, played on the hockey team there, and helped on the family farm. He spent alternate holidays with his fathers: Christmas with one of them, Thanksgiving with the other, and the next year it’d switch.

When he was young, he’d do things to try and earn their favour and love (like join the hockey team as a goalie or do well in school). But as he grew older, he became embittered towards his parents who he understood didn’t want him. Shared experiences and meals went downhill from there.

This was where he found himself now: glaring at his dad from across the table while the man tried to lie to him and say he didn’t regret Kon’s birth. It made Kon sick to his stomach, but he didn’t know if he’d feel any better if Clark just admitted to it.

“You have to understand, things were different then. I’m glad to call you my son, Conner, and I want you to be glad to call me your dad,” Clark said. He looked at tired as Kon felt. This was the same argument they’d been having for years and Kon was tired of having it.

“I want to come see one of your games.”

“What?” Kon asked, startled and shaken from his own thoughts. He wasn’t expecting this turn in conversation.

“I want to come watch one of your hockey games. I miss seeing you out there,” Clark explained, sitting back in his seat. “But I wanted to make sure you were OK with it first. I don’t want to make you… uncomfortable.”

Kon was honestly surprised. Not only that Clark wanted to watch him play, but that he was even bothering to ask his permission first. He almost didn’t know what to say.

“…Whatever, I mean, anyone can come watch. You don’t have to ask,” Kon replied, sitting back himself and crossing his arms over his chest. He looked at the ancient jukebox on the wall at their table.

“I just wanted to make sure you’d be alright with it. I think Ma and Pa would love to see you play too. I’d love to bring them out,” Clark said, smiling a little to himself. Kon was sure he was thinking about how much his parents would love to watch their grandson on the ice again, just like his dad.

“Ma and Pa?” Kon repeated, his attention snapping back to Clark. This conversation was definitely in a totally different plane of existence from what he was expecting.

“Yeah. I was going to fly them out to visit for a week and I’m sure they’d love to come to see you play at least once. Maybe we could get dinner after?” Clark suggested. Kon was a little stunned, and already feeling the pressure of having his family watch him play. He could already feel the performance anxiety ratcheting up. And then the thought of having to share a meal with his grandparents and dad after a game filled him with dread.

“Just think about it, OK?” Clark said, dropping his napkin onto his mostly empty plate. “Let me know what you decide. No pressure.”

“…Right. Yeah OK,” Kon replied in a low voice, already feeling pressured.

“Great. Well, I have to be getting back to work now. Thanks for agreeing to come to lunch with me,” Clark said, moving to stand. Normally, Kon would feel relief that the obligatory meal was over, but he had more weighing on him than ever before. His professional hockey player dad wanted to come watch him play hockey… and bring the closest things to parents Kon’s ever had to watch too.

“Yeah, sure,” Kon replied, standing up as well as Clark grabbed his coat off the hanger. (Kon never took his off).

Just before they left the diner, Clark turned to Kon. “I love you, Conner,” he said and, because he probably knew Kon would throw a fit if he hugged him, just clasped his shoulder and squeezed before holding the door open for him.

Kon didn’t say anything, just walked out into the busy street and ducked his head to avoid the camera flashes.

 

\----------------------------------------------

 

Kon and Lex are sitting at Lex’s massive dinning table in Lex’s extravagant mansion home. Lex is seated at the head of the table with Kon to his left, although Kon wishes he could be down at the opposite end so he wouldn’t have to talk to his father.

“How are you enjoying University, Conner?” Lex asks as he cuts a perfectly sized bite from his steak, handling his cutlery with severe precision and elegant grace simultaneous. Everything about Lex screams “high society”.

“ ‘S fine,” Kon replies, pushing his un-eaten asparagus around his plate. He’s rapidly losing interest in this meal even though it’s exquisite and better than anything Kon’s likely to have for the next six months.

“Are you excelling in your classes?” Lex asks, lifting his bite to his mouth while watching Kon for his response.

Kon just mumbles a “more or less”, before shoving another bite of potatoes into his mouth. There’s a long moment of silence wherein they both chew and seem to try and wait one another out.

“Have you befriended many of your peers?” Lex finally asks after he swallows.

Kon just shrugs, pretending to still chew even though his bite has virtually vanished after chewing for so long.

Lex puts down his silverware and Kon gets a sense of deja vu.

“Conner…” Lex begins and dread settles into Kon’s stomach once more. He hates these semi-annual meals with Lex as much as he hates the ones with Clark. Half of him wishes they’d just stop trying and leave him alone like they used to.

“Look. Everything’s fine. School’s fine. My classes are fine. My friends are fine. I’m doing fine. What is there to talk about?” Kon quickly interjects. He knows it’ll make Lex even angrier, but he hasn’t been able to play nice with either of his dads for a very long time.

Lex wipes his mouth with his napkin (clothe) and sets it down on the table beside his plate. His silence is unsettling and he knows it. Kon is being left to marinate in his own dread. It’s Easter and Kon has been sent to stay with Lex for the long weekend, but he’s not happy about it at all.

“…I understand why you’re angry, Conner,” Lex begins and Kon can’t decide if he should be surprised that he’s not being chastised or should roll his eyes because what does Lex know? “You’ve had an… unconventional childhood and you’re still harbouring a lot of resentment about it,” Lex continues and Kon hates that he’s right, that he can see right through him. “If you’d like to talk to someone, I can arrange it for you.”

“What?” Kon asks, and looks up at Lex in confusion.

“I’d be happy to find you a therapist to speak with. Someone you can confide in and problem solve with. Clark and I have been doing our best to try and reconcile with you now that you’re older, but there’s only so much we can do on our own,” Lex explain and Kon feels that cold rage coming over him again.

“As much as I’d like for you to be able to confide in me, I know you’re unlikely to do so at this time. That’s why I think finding you another therapist would be a good idea,” Lex carries on. Growing up, Lex had paid for Kon to see a therapist every couple weeks to try and help him come to terms with his parentage. For a while, it worked well enough. But as Kon grew older and still didn’t see any more of his dads, he internalized their presumed resentment and began rebelling against their role in his life. He stopped seeing the therapist (he’d tell Ma and Pa he was going, but he’d skip out and head to the rink or the park or the 7/11 instead) and stopped trying to be the person he thought his dads would have wanted him to be. He was around 13 at the time.

“It’s not healthy to keep holding onto so much resentment,” Lex said, shaking Kon out of his thoughts, “I would know.”

Kon knew that Lex and Lex’s father, Lionel, never had the best relationship. Kon never really took time to learn the particulars, although Lex never shied away from admitting his own hatred for the man. However, Kon was uninterested in listening to Lex’s pity party.

“It’s amazing how even though you hated your own dad so much, you still made the same mistakes he did and became a crappy dad to your own son,” Kon replied: a sharp barb aimed right at Lex’s heart. It was too far and he knew it, but having to stay in this house that didn’t feel like a home with a man who called himself Kon’s father but was never fatherly towards him had him on edge.

“Conner!” Lex immediately chastised, voice both angry and hurt at the same time. He had slammed his hands down on the table, making the flatware and cutlery clatter. Kon knew he was in the wrong, but he wasn’t ready to admit it. Not yet.

“I have readings to do,” Kon said, quickly standing, the scraping of his chair across the old wood floors as loud as a freight train’s brakes. He bolted from the room before Lex could say anything else. He sprinted up the stairs and down the hall to his room, slamming the door shut behind him and locking it, breathing heavily into the silence that followed. The lights were off in his room, but Kon didn’t bother to turn them on: he knew the room inside and out. He flopped down onto the bed, dragging a pillow up under his head and turning it to look out the window. The sky was dark outside, the moon hidden behind a thick blanket of clouds.

Two days left until Kon flew back to school.

He was counting the minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! Been doing a lot of writing lately so I hope to update again very soon! Thanks for hanging in there, guys, and for all the support and interest! It definitely keeps me motivated. 
> 
> Sorry it's kind of a sad chapter and Kon really seems like a jerk, but he's got a lot of feelings towards his parents and he's still trying to come to terms with them. We'll see a lot more development among them all as the story goes, so don't give up hope on our Superboy just yet!


	4. Boys and Thai Food

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You've met Kon's family, now it's time to meet Tim's! (Well, sort of). Dick Grayson is like the big brother Tim never had.

“Great work today, Timmy. You’re going to crush States next week.”

Tim was walking down the halls of the rink joined by one of his mentors and fellow pupils of Bruce Wayne: Dick Grayson. Dick had been Bruce’s first mentee and had had a spectacular career in figure skating. He was doing his own coaching now (mostly for small children) and would sometimes fill in for Bruce when he couldn’t make it.

“Just remember to keep that back leg up on the axel landing and you’ll do fine,” Dick said with a wide, mega-watt smile. If Tim were younger, he’d have been dazzled by that smile to the point where he was a fumbling, stuttering mess. His hero-worship hasn’t so much faded as he’s been able to control it more. Tim would be lying if he said he wasn’t star-struck by Dick the first time he met him in person. He’d watched Dick skate in the World Juniors once when he was five. The next day, he got his parents to enroll him in figure skating lessons and had a poster of Dick pinned to his wall.

“Thanks Dick,” Tim replied, pausing just before the arena doors to turn and face Dick, “And thanks for being here today to help.”

“Of course, Tim,” Dick said, so earnestly Tim felt it in his heart. Dick’s smile faded a little as he sensed what Tim was getting at, “You know Bruce is just busy, right? He’d absolutely be here but, well, with Damian and all…”

“Yeah, no, I know,” Tim replied. Bruce had been tied up lately with his own son’s training. Damian Wayne, at 10 years old, was already a figure skating prodigy and he monopolized a lot of Bruce’s time and energy at the moment. It was difficult for Tim to reconcile feeling abandoned by his coach and usurped by his successor (whom he had met, and actively didn’t like). “It’s just right before States…”

Dick, sensing Tim’s mood shift, turned on his big-brother-will-always-be-here-for-you smile and hunched enough to look Tim in the eye. He clasped a hand around Tim’s shoulder. “Hey, you’re going to be fine. Amazing, actually. You’re gonna knock the skates of everyone out there. You’re more than good enough, Tim, and I mean that,” Dick said, squeezing Tim’s shoulder in emphasis.

“Thanks, Dick,” Tim said with a small smile on his face. It meant a lot coming from Dick and Tim knew he meant it. Dick was one of those people who never really lied and always spoke his mind. His opinion meant the world to Tim.

Dick smiled brilliantly before standing up again and shifting his arm around Tim’s shoulders so they could walk out of the arena side by side. “Of course, Timmy, you know I mean every word,” Dick replied, jostling Tim a little as they walked, “Now, what’dya say we go get something to eat? I’ve been craving Thai all – oh!”

Dick stopped mid thought and they stopped walking to avoid bumping into someone walking towards them. Tim recognized him immediately.

“Kon, hi,” Tim said, taking note of Kon’s curious face as he looked at Dick.

“Hey, Tim. You just finish practice?” Kon asked, his gaze shifting back to Tim, a questioning look on his face more about the man hanging off Tim than about his schedule.

“Yeah. Kon, this is Dick Grayson, my coach for the day,” Tim said by means of introduction, “Dick, this is my friend Conner. He’s on the hockey team and we share a class.”

Dick pulled himself off Tim and extended a hand to Kon to shake, “Nice to meet you Conner. Any friend of Timmy’s is a friend of mine.”

Kon shook Dick’s hand firmly, a little dazzled by his bright smile and friendly attitude. He was totally different from Tim and his normal coach Mr. Wayne. “Yeah, likewise,” Kon replied.

“Are you headed to practice?” Tim asked, taking note of Kon’s gym bag slung over his shoulder.

“Yeah. Wanna grab something to eat when I’m done and go over last week’s test?” Kon asked.

“Actually, Dick and I are going to eat now,” Tim said, touched at the brief look of sadness that crossed Kon’s face at the news, “But text me when you’re done. We can meet up.”

“Alright,” Kon said, smiling and nodding. “Cool, well I’ll see you around.”

“See you,” Tim replied as Kon began to skirt around them towards the arena doors.

“Nice to meet you!” Dick shouted after Kon’s form and Kon threw a smile and a “same” back before disappearing inside.

Tim braced himself.

As soon as the doors closed, Dick’s hand closed around his upper arm and he could hear the giddiness in Dick’s voice when he said, “So. You and _Conner_.”

It was going to be a long dinner.

 

\------------------------------

 

It was a long dinner. Long and embarrassing as Dick prodded him with question after question about his and Kon’s “relationship”. Tim told him many times that there wasn’t anything there, but Dick got it out of him that he wouldn’t be disappointed if there was. By the end of their meal, Dick was already planning their wedding and giving Tim some cringe-worthy advice for how to ask Kon out. Tim’s face was flushed by the end of the meal and it wasn’t just from the curry.

Dick walked Tim back to campus after they finished and gave him a tight hug goodbye. He made Tim promise to keep him updated on the Kon front and planted a kiss on his forehead before flagging down a cab and driving away. Tim waved him off and couldn’t shake the smile from his face. Dick’s happiness what contagious like that.

Tim checked his phone. Kon had texted him 15 minutes ago saying he was done with practice and asking him where he was. Tim punched out a quick response and started walking back towards the rink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A double update?! Unheard of. I'm really excited about where this story is going and I'm trying to get it out there as quickly (and well) as I can. So enjoy a nice long read!
> 
> I'm not gonna lie I love Dick so much and his and Tim's relationship. We'll definitely see more of them later.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this forever ago and it's been sitting around in my documents so I figured I'd post it. I'm obsessed with this AU idea because I'm a dumb Canadian and all I think about is winter sports. I know I'm a crap writer but, hey, if you can tell the story better - please do! I'd love to read it! :)
> 
> I run an art blog on tumblr and you can see some related-to-this-story art there!
> 
> https://artiswhatartdoes.tumblr.com/post/141788101308/ok-but-what-about-this-a-timkon-college-au-that
> 
> https://artiswhatartdoes.tumblr.com/post/142210743478/not-gonna-lie-all-ive-been-drawing-lately-is-this


End file.
